Harry Potter and Going to Stonewall High
by Megark
Summary: What? Harry isn't going to Hogwarts? What? He's the leader of Dudley's gang? Sounds crazy.
1. Chapter 1

Dudley Dursley, with blood freely streaming from his mouth and nose, looked up at his eleven year old cousin with a combination of shock and awe. Harry Potter, meanwhile, looked at his shirt which was coated in blood that was, for the first time, not his own. Piers Polkiss, Malcolm McDougall, Gordon Gainsebury, and Dennis Dromshire all had their mouths at various stages of dropped at the four foot nothing, not even one hundred pound sopping wet boy who had just laid out their leader with a single punch. The dust particles thought nothing because, well, they were dust particles and did not really care about the fat boy lying in dirt in the middle of the well-kept playground.

Dudley began struggling to his feet, a feat in and of itself, but was immediately laid out again by a swift kick to his ribs. Dudley was turned over onto his back and landed hard on it, looking up into the blue sky. He could see a few white clouds drifting by and he was jealous of them. They had not just been beaten by a scrawny freak in front of their friends. Thinking was not Dudley's strong suit, but after about twenty seconds, he decided he should get up. Dudley rolled over onto his front and again struggled to get up. When another sharp kick, this time into his cheek, put paid to that ambition, Dudley began to panic.

"Well don't just stand there, you bloody idiots, get him!" The anger in the yell was undermined by the sharp squeak in the middle of it. Dudley then felt a foot kick him onto his back and assert pressure on his chest.

The measured voice of Harry Potter sounded somewhere above Dudley's head. "Yeah? You really want to do that? Your biggest mate tried that and see where he wound up."

Dudley could squint and barely make out his gang standing still and decidedly not getting Harry. Dudley tried again, "Hey there you lot, I'm your leader and I say get him!"

Piers, the de-facto second in command, shrugged and scrunched his face, looking ever more like the weasel he was, and muttered something inaudible to the beached whale lying on the ground.

"What, Piers?" Dudley decided that the ground was definitely not the ideal place to be talking to someone from.

"I said, we don't work for you no more. The freak beat you." Piers looked over his shoulder at the other three boys and shrugged. "Seems to me, this kid may be a freak, but he's a strong freak." He looked back at Harry. "Listen here, freak. I don't care that you're a freak, I care that you're strong."

Potter stepped off of Dudley. "Well Piers, I don't care that you're a weasel, as long as you're a loyal weasel."

While Dudley got up, Piers looked Harry up and down, appraising him. "Yeah. Yeah, I could do that."

Potter smiled. "I guess it's Potter's gang then.

Dudley, remember that thinking is decidedly _not_ his strong suit, sputtered, "B-but. It's my gang! You can't j-just steal it!"

Potter stepped forward, hand curling to a fist and aiming itself at Dudley's face. "Actually, Diddiekins, I think I can."

Dudley, faced with the prospect of another beating, promptly capitulated. "Alright, alright. You win."

Potter smiled. "Good." He placed a hand on Dudley's shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes. "First thing's first. You've just _got_ to get into shape, Big D."

Dudley gulped.


	2. Chapter 2

Two months later showed a very different Dudley Dursley getting up at five thirty to do his morning lifting routine. The amount of fat the eleven year old had accrued quickly turned to muscle and now he was, though perhaps not much smaller, definitely thicker. The warmup consisted of lifting several different types of weighted metal above his head repeatedly. After this more boring part came the part that Dudley actually looked forward to. His parents had been, though surprised, very willing to buy him a hanging punching bag to put into his room. Upon asking, his father had tousled his hair and proclaimed him a "fine young man!" and his mother had begun tearing up that her son "was so grown up already." After an hour of punching the bag, Dudley realized that he had forgotten to put on the gauze wraps again and his knuckles were raw and close to bleeding so Dudley stopped. The clock now read almost seven thirty so Dudley changed his clothes and walked downstairs, noticing how little out of breath he was after all this training.

The smell of well-seasoned bacon and frying eggs greeted Dudley as he made his way into the dining room. His parents were seated at the table, his father reading the morning paper and throwing occasional glares at Harry who was, of course, making breakfast. Dudley's mother was knitting something under the table and occasionally sneaking looks out of their window, towards the neighbor's yard. Dudley took his seat at the table and was struck by how his parents did not hear him enter the room. Potter's "getting into shape" thing was really paying off.

Harry quickly fished the breakfast off of the stove and carried it over to the table before dishing it to each person. As breakfast was about to be served, Dudley's father was now paying attention to the table and saw his son.

"Dudley, m'boy! Didn't hear you come in! Are you ready for your first day of bully old Stonewall High?" Dudley's father gave a loud and jovial laugh.

Dudley smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes. It's going to be so much fun." He and Harry shared a snide look at each other. The day was indeed going to be fun, though perhaps not for the members of the Wolves, Stonewall's current top dog.

Breakfast served, the family dug in. Dudley and Harry both ate everything on their plates with much gusto and quickly grabbed seconds before Dudley's father could eat the rest. The boys would be needing their strength later that day, if Piers' reports were anything to go on. Breakfast consisted, as per usual, of little to no talking and only more stuffing of faces. Harry always made sure to make lots of food and he had rather outdone himself this time. The morning meal completed, the boys excused themselves and went upstairs to change into their uniforms. Dudley's was a little loose on him, as his measurements had been taken before he had started Harry's plan, but it would be fine. After Dudley was finished changing, Harry knocked on the door and opened it at Dudley's "It's open."

Harry's uniform fit him moderately well as Dudley had been able to convince his parents to buy Harry a new uniform, rather than foist Dudley's father's old rags on him as they had originally intended. The uniform was spartan and modest, a slate gray blazer with a black button down shirt below it and matching gray slacks with black shoes. A pin on the blazer's left lapel identified the wearer as attending Stonewall. Harry nervously fidgeted with the collar on his shirt, having never been given anything so starched in his life, and walked into the room. Dudley put his hands in the outside pockets of the blazer and leaned against the desk that held his computer monitor. Harry elected to sit on the bed and lean against the wall behind it. Dudley's father yelled from downstairs that they had ten minutes before leaving.

Harry closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall. "You ready? It's a bloody big day today."

Dudley nodded. "It is that. But I think we'll be ok. We've got you, haven't we?"

Harry opened his eyes and looked at his massive cousin. "That's big words, coming from you, Big D." His eyes closed again. "I reckon you've got half the uppers at Stonewall shitting themselves over you right now."

Dudley grinned. "And that's the plan, innit?"

Harry nodded. At Dudley's father's second yell, Harry opened his eyes and stood. He walked the two steps to Dudley and placed a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. The grin was almost feral and left Dudley more than glad Harry was on his side. "Let's go kick some ass."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry and Dudley walked up the stairs to the large and forbidding stone wall that the school was named for. Harry's periphery caught Dudley turning and waving to his parents as they drove away. Rumor had it that the stone wall around the school was supposed to have been built against an invasion of Romans and had survived all the way until now. That the students of Stonewall were to be trained as rigorously as the soldiers who had first erected and then fought for the wall. Harry did not believe a shred of that story. But he did believe that Stonewall would test him and his gang and that, through rigorously holding themselves to the plans Harry had set for them, the wall would eventually fall.

Harry took another step forward and placed a hand against the wall and felt its texture and strength. After taking another moment to look at the wall, he turned and gestured to Dudley to follow him and the two walked through the wrought-iron gate into Stonewall High.

Harry looked around once inside and saw two long rows of classrooms on either side of a long, open walkway that opened into a circular quad at the end of the classroom rows. There were some tables and benches, along with some various thin trees, in the middle of the walkway. Some students were sitting at the tables and talking, others were walking around towards unknown destinations. Harry drank it all in, knowing he'd have to get uniquely familiar with the layout if his more ambitions plans were going to come to fruition.

"Hey Harry?" Dudley's voice broke into Harry's reverie.

"Yeah, Dud?"

"Where are we meeting Piers and the rest?" Dudley's voice sounded unsure.

Harry smiled and looked at his cousin. "We're not, remember? After school, we're challenging the Wolves. We'll see Piers then."

Dudley nodded and looked like he usually did when solving a math problem. A shrill bell rang and made both boys jump. "Alright, Big D. Your classes are over there." Harry pointed at the left hand classrooms before walking to the ones on the right. The buildings were divided by normal and advanced classes. Harry had, at the beginning of the summer, thought himself extremely fortunate to have warranted being in the advanced class, but that was when he and Dudley had been enemies. Now he was almost reluctant to leave the big oaf by himself. Harry walked up to the door that was his class and took a deep breath before entering.

There were only a few kids sitting in the room at this point, two boys sitting in the back and talking profusely and a girl sitting in the third row, steadfastly ignoring them. Harry looked around the room before sitting next to the girl and relaxing against the rigidly backed chair.

"You shouldn't do that." The girl's voice was crisp and clean.

Harry reflexively sat up before frowning at the girl who, indeed, was sitting up and whose back was ramrod straight. "Why not?"

The girl's condescension was withering. "Well. Ignoring the relevant health concerns, the teachers will punish you for it. Did you _not_ read the manual before coming here?"

Harry was not used to being on the defensive verbally. "Um, no. I did not." He rallied quickly. "So what of it?"

The girl finally deigned to look at him and he was treated to, perhaps, the coldest rolling of eyes he'd ever seen. "Ughh. I thought the people in this class were supposed to be _smart_."

Harry quickly looked around for any end to the conversation, but there was no one sitting near him and the teacher still had around five minutes before the class started.

"I _am_ smart," retorted Harry, "I just don't spend all my time reading manuals." The girl rolled her eyes again and Harry became convinced that she practiced in the mirror at home. He quickly changed tactics. "So, is there anything else I should know?"

The girl looked at him again and raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Hmm, you do show _some_ redeeming qualities. We shall have to wait and see if they are enough to outweigh your shortcomings." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small book that had obviously been well-used. "Here. The relevant information is high-lighted in green."

As Harry took the book, he extended his other hand in an offer to shake. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

The girl dropped another withering look at the extended hand before daintily taking and shaking it. "Jennifer Nywell. A pleasure." Harry almost winced at how much sarcasm was placed on the word "pleasure."

Before Harry could become any more skewered on Jennifer's wit, the teacher came in and dropped her briefcase on the desk at the front of the room. Harry quickly glanced around the room and saw that there were at most twenty people in this class; much smaller than he had anticipated. He directed his attention back at the professor when she introduced herself as Mrs. Smith and called roll. There were, it seemed, three extra students who had lost their way in the class and Mrs. Smith quickly sent them on. With these distractions gone, Mrs. Smith began her lecture on what math they should have covered previous to the class and what they could expect in the future classes. Harry paid strict attention to what was considered the "remedial" math work and was relieved that he had gone over it all in the last few weeks. He began to tune the teacher out when she started in on the future work, thinking he would be able to simply deal with it then. He looked around at the classroom and found the repeated wallpaper calming. His visual tour of the room brought his eyes back onto Jennifer and he frowned as he noticed that she was steadfastly taking notes.

Harry blinked and looked up at the professor, worried that she had started new material already. His fears were unfounded; apparently Jennifer just liked taking notes. Harry shook his head, but began paying attention regardless. He did not want to fall behind, especially with Jennifer being right next to him and liable roll her eyes at him again. Dudley's beatings had been one thing. This girl's withering looks were quite another.


	4. Chapter 4

Mrs. Smith did not talk about anything actually important, as it happened, and the class let out with Harry and Jennifer the last ones to leave. The class would spend the whole day together, as they were all advanced students, and Harry felt there were worse fates than spending all day with the frosty Miss Nywell. Well, perhaps there were. After an hour with her, Harry wasn't actually sure.

The second class, taught by a Mrs. Archer, was both history and utterly boring. Again, Harry sat next to Jennifer and, again, forced himself to pay attention so that he might not fall behind her. Harry had not known that he was this competitive. After the second class of the day, came the government mandated ten minute break and everyone filed out of the rooms, into the somewhat crisp mid-morning air.

Harry began taking a look out for Dudley, and maybe the others, but did not see them. He walked to the middle of the walkway separating the two classroom buildings and sat at a bench. He pulled out the manual Jennifer had given him and flipped to where the green highlighting started. He read through a few rules and felt a begrudging thankfulness to Jennifer. Before too long, however, a shadow loomed over the page he was reading. He looked up.

"Enjoying yourself?" Jennifer's voice was colder than the air.

Harry frowned. "Um, not really. It's dry."

Jennifer rolled her eyes and sat down on the opposite bench from Harry. "Of _course_ it is. It's a school manual."

Harry grinned. "Oh, is _that_ what it is? You know, I never would have guessed."

Jennifer raised an eyebrow. "Was that wit? I'm impressed, Mister Potter."

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Harry looked over his shoulder at the newcomer. The boy was at least two years older, and fifty pounds heavier, than Harry and had cropped copper hair. His face was set in a sneer and his hands were in his back pockets.

"I said," the boy said, moving closer, "What. Have. We. Here?"

Harry frowned, as though he did not understand the question. "Are you blind? It's pretty clear that we're two new students."

The boy blinked in shock. "Cor, he's got a mouth on him, hasn't he?" He stepped ever closer to Harry, who thought it was a good time to stand. "Don't you know who I am?"

Harry took a deep theatrical sigh. "You know, I _am_ reading the school's manual. But I don't think I've reached the section that lists all the gorillas at the school just yet." Harry heard Jennifer giggle. It was an odd sound, but Harry felt a strange sense of comfort when he heard it.

The cropped gorilla stepped around Harry and approached Jennifer. "Hey you, what's so bloody funny?"

Harry interjected before Jennifer could incriminate herself. After all, he was planning to take over the school. She was just a classmate. "I think she's laughing at you, mate. See, you might have missed it, but I called you a gorilla." The large boy turned and glared what was, no doubt, his fiercest glare at Harry. Harry might have been a little worried had he not just spent two classes with Jennifer and her looks. "She probably thought that was funny, given your visual likeness to said animal."

The larger boy took another step forward and was almost touching Harry's forehead with his own. Harry, to his credit didn't back down. "Listen, you cunt. I'm head of the Wolves. We run this fucking joint, you hear?" He stepped back. "We run this shit." He began yelling. "WE RUN THS WHOLE FUCKING SCHOOL." He moved back in, whispering. "So you better stay the fuck away from us. At least, if you know what's good for you."

Harry, making a quick strategic decision, whispered back, "The Wolves? Those little shits who get off on beating up five year olds? Yeah, I mighta heard of you." The larger boys face hit magenta and kept right on going. "Listen, I think I should tell you. My gang's gonna be running the shit here now. And you. Better. Stay the fuck away. From me." Harry glanced pointedly over at the suddenly pale Jennifer. "And mine."

Rage seemed to be choking the larger boy and two of his friends quickly stepped forward and pulled him away from Harry, muttering to him. The larger boy calmed considerably and patted his friends' shoulders before walking back up to Harry.

"Listen, you little shit. We're settling this right here, during lunch." While the red had left the boy's skin, the fury was still very prevalent in his eyes.

"Oh man, I already have an engagement during lunch." Harry's voice was the epitome of remorse. "Do you think it could be after school?"

The larger boy swelled for a second before letting out a deep breath and nodding. "Fine." He walked away and began talking with his own friends, presumably telling them the plans.

Harry took a deep breath and sat back down at the table, ignoring Jennifer's look. He began reading the manual again, but before a minute was up, he could still feel Jennifer's eyes boring into him so he looked up. "What?"

Jennifer's look was an odd combination of concern and incredulity. "What are you thinking? Starting a fight on your first day?"

Harry shrugged. "It was going to happen this week anyway. Give the masses longer than that and they'll hate you for taking out an established group. Do it right away and they're all the more impressed." He picked up the manual again. "Why do you care, anyway?"

Jennifer, in Harry's periphery, frowned, but quickly schooled her features into ambivalence. "I don't." She smiled. "But that was fun to listen to. Maybe I underestimated you, Mister Potter."

Harry looked up again. "Harry. Please." He looked back down at the manual. "So, why are sitting with me? I thought I was beneath you."

"Well I _was_ going to tell you not to harm my manual. But after that, it seems you need someone to show you the ropes socially."

Harry looked up at her completely serious face. "What do you mean?"

"Well." She adjusted slightly. "You obviously have balls, but you just as obviously lack subtlety." She waved a hand at the space the Wolves' leader had just vacated. "That's probably good enough for types like _him_, but you'll need real grace to deal with anyone smarter. Girls, for instance."

Harry frowned and leaned forward. "Why do you want to help me?"

Jennifer shrugged. "You seem interesting, Harry. I want to see more of who you are."

Harry caught her eyes in his and held them there awhile. She did not seem to be lying. Apparently, Harry had simply passed some sort of test. The bell rang shortly after this and Harry and Jennifer quickly rose and quipped at each other while walking to the next class.


	5. Chapter 5

The final bell rang and Harry was let out of his last class, literature, and walked out of the dreary room. The day had been nothing special, but Harry had been forced to talk to Piers and the others in full view of the school during lunch, something he had been loathe to do. The longer the school thought him and his gang were separate entities, the easier his subterfuge and planning would be. Jennifer had been an unexpected asset to him, helping to sharpen the plans he was willing to share with her, and even going so far as to offer to help him carry some of the lesser ones out. As Harry approached the table he had encountered the Wolves' leader at, Jennifer said goodbye and slipped away. Harry had known she was going to, but he still would rather have had her walking with him than walk by himself.

Harry reached the table, but did not see anyone else there. While waiting, he pulled out the manual and read a few more rules. The school really was training them to be like soldiers: there were random uniform checks, drill expectations and even corporal punishment. No wonder Uncle Vernon loved the place so much. The thought of a school aged Uncle Vernon made Harry grimace. He looked up again, but again saw no one coming. Just as he looked back down to the manual, some movement caught his eye.

The Wolves' leader came bolting out of a classroom on the normal side and Harry barely had time to dive out of the way as the larger boy shot through the air Harry had been in mere seconds ago. Harry quickly stood and eyed the other boy as he whirled around. The two combatants circled each other. Harry wondered where the bloody hell Dudley was. Dudley was the muscle. Harry shook the thought from his mind and remembered the few sparring sessions he had squeezed in during the summer. The two boys were circling each other and Harry knew that he had no chance if he went in, the other boy's size alone made that impossible. The two slowly stopped and, tense, watched each other, waiting for any mistake at all. Ten seconds passed. Then the Wolves' leader charged.

Time slowed down for Harry, just like it had over the summer when he had laid out Dudley. The same warmth flooded his arms and legs, the stiffness from sitting all day gone. He flexed his fingers and curled them into a fist. The Wolves' leader was still running. Harry felt his right arm moving and saw, almost to his surprise, that his right hand was sailing in a strong hook towards the rival's face. He simultaneously stepped back and to the side with his left foot, swinging out of the path of the enraged bully. Fist made contact with face and Harry felt bone give way to bone. The force of the boy's charge made Harry stumble a bit, but when he looked down at the felled beast, the Wolves' leader had blood freely flowing from both nose and mouth. Harry looked a bit closer and immediately wished he hadn't. He could see the unnatural dent that had caved in the larger boy's jaw. The skin was already starting to bruise.

Just then, Harry heard footsteps behind him and he whirled around, the world again slowing down. When he saw Dudley's bloody and grinning face beaming at him from behind the advanced building, however, the world caught up to speed and Harry grinned right back. Dudley walked up, limping only slightly, and the cousins clapped each other on the shoulder.

"How'd you do, Big D?" Harry's grin was obvious in his tone.

Dudley's massive shoulders bobbed. "Pretty good, I think. You?"

Harry gestured down at the, apparently unconscious, boy still lying on the ground. "I'd say I performed admirably." He looked around. "Where are the other Wolves? And Piers and the rest?"

Dudley looked at the ground. "Well, Piers reckoned we could take the lot of them so he left with the others to avoid us being seen together. And I think there were only ten or so Wolves anyway."

Harry looked at his cousin with a slowly dropping jaw. "You took on nine uppers by yourself?"

Dudley chuckled and scratched his head modestly. "Well, they honestly didn't want nothing to do with me after I took the first five or so."

Harry let go of Dudley and the two walked towards the parking lot, Harry shaking his head in amazement at his cousin's fighting prowess. When they got to the lot, Uncle Vernon was standing next to his car. When he saw his beloved son's bloody face , he let out a roar and charged towards them. Harry cursed to himself and wondered how many dishes he'd have to wash for this latest outrage, but when Uncle Vernon got to them and demanded what happened, Dudley merely grinned and said, "That punching bag you got for me really paid off, Dad." Vernon Dursley promptly burst into tears and pulled his son into a big hug.

Before too long, the boys were back at home and sitting in Dudley's room. Dudley's bleeding had stopped and Aunt Petunia wasted no time in making sure Dudley's face was utterly devoid of any dirt or blood. Harry reclined, as he had that morning, on Dudley's bed and lazily watched his cousin do an extra set of weights before moving on to the punching bag.

"Hey, Big D."

Dudley turned. "Yeah, Harry?"

"Good job today." Harry was wondering if really had been a good day overall: Piers abandoning the plan was troubling, but there was no reason to overtax his cousin's mind with plots. "You fought really well."

Dudley beamed. People other than his parents rarely told him he was good at anything. "Thanks Harry." He put the weights down and began wrapping the gauze around his fists. The soft _flumps_ of fist hitting bag soon filled the room. The sounds were soothing and relaxing to Harry and his lazy eyes soon found themselves closing. Harry Potter soon drifted off into sleep, content with the way things were for perhaps the first time in his life.


	6. Chapter 6

Albus Dumbledore frowned at the letter in his hand. It was a bog standard Hogwarts acceptance letter, the same as all the others that had gone out earlier that day. There was no strange spell on it, no magical interference, nothing strange whatsoever about this particular letter. Except that the name on it was Harry Potter. And it had not left Hogwarts.

Albus glared dubiously at the letter, mentally scolding it while simultaneously sighing that nothing was ever easy. Especially where Harry Potter was concerned. He sighed and set the letter on the metal surface of the Spell Sniffer and shook his head when it sniffed merely the normal magical detection spells and self-delivering spells. Albus removed the letter, for it is never wise to let a Spell Sniffer smell for too long, and tossed the letter onto the feeding dish in front of a phoenix who was taking a nap. Fawkes, the phoenix, awoke with a start at this rude interruption and fixed Albus with a reproachful, stare. Albus rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, causing the letter to burst into flames. The phoenix, slightly mollified, began to eat the burning letter, not yet sure if this snack was worth being woken up.

Albus smiled at the phoenix for a few seconds before again sitting at his desk and pulling out a roll of parchment. He rolled it out and began writing at the bottom. _My dear Minerva, your presence at my office, posthaste, would be much appreciated. Cheers!_ He signed it with his full name, partly to add importance, but mostly because he liked the way Wolfric looked next to Brian. He took out his wand and traced a line above the small amount of writing before re-rolling the parchment and replacing it his drawer. Albus lifted the small scrap and crossed over to the phoenix.

The bird was finishing the burned letter and seemed much more open to Albus's requests. The old man stroked the bird's head, marveling at the softness of the feathers, speaking soothing nonsense words. The phoenix crooned a little sound of joy, enjoying the attention. Albus removed his hand slowly and smiled at Fawkes, eyes twinkling. He held up the scrap of paper. Fawkes stood and shook out its feathers, small sparks coming off of the bird, and took the scarp of paper from the Headmaster.

"Minerva McGonagall, please, Fawkes." The old man's voice was kindly, asking a favor of an old friend. Fawkes gazed searchingly into the twinkling blue eyes before vanishing in a flash of red fire. Albus returned to his desk and observed the tops of his steepled fingers, his mind raging with implications, plots, plans, and, above all, questions. Before too long, however, Albus took in a deep breath and let it out, before setting on the task of organizing his mind. He closed his eyes and dispassionately viewed each new idea before identifying it and setting it in its place. The whole process took maybe thirty seconds.

When Albus opened his eyes, Minerva McGonagall was standing in front of him, her normally severe eyes filled with confusion. Albus smiled his easy, charming smile and reclined in his chair. He pulled out his wand waved it, bringing into existence the sort of chair he knew Minerva liked.

"Ah, please excuse me, Minerva. It's been so long since I've had guests." As she sat, he twinkled his eyes and she seemed a bit less nervous. "I'm sure you're curious why I've called you here."

"Indeed, Albus, I must confess," Minerva said, her voice quiet as it always was, "I was not expecting a summons from you until at least the end of August."

Albus smiled, trying to allay her fears. "It is a simple matter, Minerva. I have discovered today that a certain letter did not go out with its fellows."

Minerva adjusted herself, "Well, that's not altogether unheard of, Albus. I might inquire as to why you summoned me for such triviality."

Albus allowed his smile to wither. "It was Harry Potter's letter."

A small gasp was all the clue Minerva gave that she had heard what Albus had said. "But, that's terrible! What does it mean, Albus?"

Albus leaned forward and stared at his Transfiguration teacher over his steepled fingers. How much to tell, or not tell, ah, this was the hardest part of the job. "It means, Minerva, that I need you to summon Dame Longbottom and her grandson to me as soon as possible.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry awoke to the, by now, customary shrieks that so kindly alerted him to breakfast time. He stretched and then lay back, content for a moment to simply bask in the plans he had made last night with Dudley and Piers. However, when the shrieks increased in volume, he knew it was time to get up. As he pulled on his uniform, he mused to himself about the week following his gang's big entrance. The downfall of the Wolves had indeed shaken the school up, but not in the way that Harry had anticipated. Piers had reported that the Wolves were the top dogs, which it seemed they were, but his reports had failed to mention the large amount of other gangs simmering restlessly just underneath the Wolves' dominance. The toppling of the school's best had now cleared the way for any of these smaller gangs to move in and take their place at the top.

His uniform on and his mind buzzing, Harry walked down to breakfast and sat at the table across from Dudley. Harry's large cousin had been in a fight the previous day and still bore the marks of it on his broad chest, but fortunately his parents had not bothered to inspect him that night. Harry did not know how well they would take to their little boy getting in fights all the time, but he suspected it was better Dudley than Harry.

Breakfast was the usual fare: lots of bacon, lots of eggs, some baked beans, and a large fried tomato for each of them. Once Harry began digging into his food, he thought about the list of gangs Piers had presented him and which ones he should focus on first. He knew that, in order to run the school, he would eventually have to establish dominance over all the gangs, but order was everything. Some gangs had influence over certain aspects of school, others had others. Harry sighed in exasperation. He had never needed this sort of knowledge before; he had never even had real friends before.

Before too long, his plate was empty and his stomach was full so Harry stood up and went back up to his room to plan out the order. He had just pulled out the list when he heard a knock on the door.

"Yeah?" Harry turned towards the door

"It's me, Harry. Can I come in?" Dudley's voice came through the door.

"Of course, Big D. It's open." Harry turned back to his list.

The door opened and Dudley walked in, sitting on Harry's bed. He watched Harry pour over the list for a few moments, then stood again and stretched. Still not attracting Harry's attention, Dudley waited another moment or two then sighed loudly.

Harry looked up, "What's up, D?"

Dudley, still mid sigh, quickly closed his mouth and took a deep breath. "Harry, can you help me out with my math homework tonight? I just don't understand any of it."

Harry, after so much thinking about complex plots and schemes, smiled at this mundane problem. "Of course, Big D. Can't have my main muscle flunk out in the first week."

Dudley let out a big sigh. "Thanks, mate. I really get all that fighting stuff, but this homework just doesn't work." He walked over to Harry's third-hand desk. "What are you working on, by the way?"

Harry spread out the paper and shook his head. "I'm just thinking about which gang we need to take out first. Taking out the Wolves made all this a lot more difficult."

Dudley frowned at all the names on the list. "Why not just go in the order they're on here on?"

Harry grinned and pulled out a pen. "See, this group of three? They're all in an alliance. If we take on one, we take on all three at once." He circled the three names. "Same with all of these." He circled the rest of the alliances on the sheet, leaving only a few straggling names alone. "I was thinking of starting with these loners first, but I need to get some perspective on it all."

Dudley frowned. "Well, ok. I think I could take them, though."

Harry grinned at his cousin. "I know you can, mate. I know you can."


End file.
